


The Petal's Way

by WitchyWriter



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Everyone Is Gay, Falling In Love, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Little Spoon Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, Lowkey Geralt's POV, M/M, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, No Smut, POV Third Person, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, There's lesbians, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyWriter/pseuds/WitchyWriter
Summary: It is in the summer in which Geralt finds himself feeling something for the bard which he knows he can't tell him. His pride won't allow it. Over the course of a seasonal year however, this pride is stretched thin and by the year's bloom, he's desperate to say his piece.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101





	1. The First Day of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> This story took me a painful amount of time to write (college, ugh.) so I hope you all enjoy it! As usual, don't be shy and feel free to let me know what you think!

He was not expected to walk out of this alive. The village assumed it, his bard was afraid of it, even Roach could smell the shift in the air as he prepared to head out early that morning. Geralt, as usual, remained stoic and unafraid. What else was he supposed to do? Shake in his boots at what was probably his thousandth monster to date?

That wasn’t his way. Letting the “what ifs” and “maybes” cloud his mind to such a degree that they blocked his current state, just wasn’t him. Geralt was not a creature of anxiety or worry, for if he thought too far ahead, the monster in front of him would surely do what it was in its instincts to do.

The thought had still plagued his mind though. The evil, painstaking thought that often left him lying awake at night and counting sheep; hoping for an easy answer to come to him. What would become of Roach, of Jaskier, should he one day meet his match? He had shook the lacking reality off of his shoulders like a chill in the air for years now. Focusing only on whatever melody strummed from the ever-playing lute and not which chord would be his last. 

He so loved those melodies. It had taken a year, or five, for the plucking to stop raising the hair on the back of his neck in raw irritation; now it was the only sound that could get him to sleep some nights.

As the sun pierced itself over the grassed horizon, all Geralt could think about was what those who depended on him would do should he vanish. Rising from his bed that morning, Jaskier snoring in the other across the room, Geralt was shaking; an unfamiliar state of freneticism coiling itself around him with an unforgiving grip. He was losing focus, forgetting what he was doing and where he was. The balance and content state of mind he so needed before a job was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know how to get it back. 

He had never felt this way before a day in his life, much less before facing a brainless beast. 

Jaskier watched this lapse from his bed, sleep still clouding his vision, the day not fully greeting him quite yet. His eyes followed the Witcher’s, catching the moments he stared holes into the floor and the rapid blinking when he came back to the real world. He knew better than to speak, propping himself onto his elbow and watching in silence. Their eyes met for a moment, Geralt freezing like a deer in torchlight and clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He could no longer met his gaze, praying to whoever was listening that the heat he felt in his face didn’t show. 

Jaskier flopped onto his back, the sun falling into his eyes, “Unfortunately I am, you’re not exactly the quietest lad.” 

Geralt shifted, picking up his bag and looking around to make sure he didn’t forget anything. His eyes grazed over Jaskier, watching the sunlight reflect itself off of his skin and his body’s slow rise and fall. He stood, struck in that moment by something he couldn’t place. _“He looks beautiful.” _He thought to himself, a pain rising in his chest. There was a breathlessness he couldn’t find the source of that made the room around him feel like a closet. The floor seeming to start to sink beneath him. Geralt looked around frantically, trying his hardest to keep a hold on himself as not to scare or worry Jaskier.__

__He failed immensely at that task, the bard rushing from across the room and placing a careful hand on Geralt’s shoulder, his eyes wide with concern. “Woah, woah, woah. What’s happening? Are you ok?” He pulled the bag off from over his shoulder and moved him to the bed, feeling a cold sweat begin on his armored back. “You need to sit down, let me get you some water.” Jaskier moved with a quickness to the basin and filled up a cup with shaky fingers, thrusting it into Geralt’s hand faster than the man could blink._ _

__“Please, I need to go.” He tried to rise from the blanket, Jaskier firmly pushing him back down immediately. He rolled his eyes and grunted, “I’m not a child Jask, stop worrying like a mother.”_ _

__“Are you going to do something to stop me?” Jaskier huffed and stood in front of him, pointing aggressively to the cup and not stopping until Geralt brought it to his lips, groaning. “I just watched you almost faint and you want me to stop worrying? Fuck you.” He smiled as he said it, not wanting to evoke any more emotion than Geralt could possibly handle. Jaskier plopped down next to him, yawning. “What has you so worked up anyway? I’ve never seen you like this before.”_ _

__He snorted, taking another sip of the water. “Isn’t my job allowed to stress me out too?” Geralt stared into the cup, finding his reflection jarring to look at; his own gaze making him uncomfortable. “It’s not easy hearing everyone tell you they think you’re going to eat shit.” He mumbled without looking up._ _

__“Then maybe you shouldn’t be in a line of work where you can eat shit.” Geralt’s head snapped to meet Jaskier’s eyes, hair brushing across the bards face, making him chuckle. Jaskier waved his hands as though afraid, tone poking fun, “Yes, you heard me, Witcher.” He patted Geralt on the back, “Never forget three months ago, after that fight with yet another graveir, that I told you to just become a baker.”_ _

__“And I told you that I’d sooner lay down and die than bake bread.”_ _

__Jaskier held up his arms defensively, “Seems that you’ve made your choice then.” He started to laugh, pausing mid-chuckle upon realizing that he was alone. “Hey- it was just a joke.” Geralt shook off his touch and started to get up again, not allowing himself to be pulled back down by the small tug on his shirtsleeve. The bard watched Geralt sulk and pick up his things again, a feeling of mild defeat creeping up his spine._ _

__Geralt pretended to look around for his sword without acknowledging the penetrating gaze of worry. Being so cared for made him uncomfortable; he didn’t know what to do with such a thing, even doing nothing felt like too much._ _

__Breaking his concentration, there was a series of shuffles from behind him; Jaskier’s poor attempt at being covert. Then, a series of short and low strums before finally, a small symphony erupted from behind him._ _

__Jaskier had no song in mind, simply humming and lightly singing gibberish along with whatever his fingers chose to play. He knew what his strumming did to the man, as it wasn’t very hard to connect the dots to begin with. Even now, Geralt stood completely still, back to him, but remaining focused with every fiber of his being. He closed his eyes, envisioning the music as wind passing him by in shades of blue and yellow; the trepidation he felt being blown away with each fading note._ _

__The bard watched, eyes moving from the strings up to Geralt every few cords or so; a small smile peaking from the corner of his mouth as the Witcher absentmindedly swayed back and forth. He ended with a dramatic flurry of riffing, trying to break the hold he had on him with its suddenness to bring him back down._ _

__He grunted, displeased and blinking rapidly._ _

__“What was that?” Jaskier slid the lute back into its hiding place under his bed and rose, walking over to him and lifting a hand to place gently on Geralt’s shoulder; only to stop himself as he turned around. “Any scathing criticism? Or have you actually enjoyed my playing?” He did however, poke the larger man in the chest, which he knew made him smile. Even if it was just a little._ _

__Geralt stared down at him from under his brow, still trying desperately to hold onto what was below and in front of him; this man who he had come to respect more than any human and this place which he had grown to hate in only a day. He found himself calmed by the ocean tone of Jaskier’s eyes, flicking his own around them and finding flecks of gray which he hadn’t noticed before._ _

__Jaskier pushed past his hesitation, putting both hands to Geralt’s shoulders and giving them a reaffirming squeeze. There was a sense of sympathy that took him over; something unfamiliar given who Geralt was and what he’d done. The sadness behind his gaze was intimate in this moment; one which he didn’t know would ever happen again._ _

__“Stop overthinking this so much.”_ _

__“Overthinking what?”_ _

__There was a punch rather than a squeeze. “You know exactly what, do you think I’m some court Jester?” He paused for second, piping up again when his counterpart opened his mouth. “Don’t you dare answer that.” Geralt huffed, releasing some tension in his shoulders and finally finding it within himself to relax. Jaskier smiled, “That’s better. Listen, if anyone could kick the fuck out of this thing it’s you- and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”_ _

__Geralt chuckled, “You wouldn’t do that anyway.”  
“Exactly! I know you,” He gestured with his thumb to the village outside their window, “These poor bastards don’t know you from a shitty knight going to the dragon’s keep to face certain death over a princess that is _most assuredly _out of his league and-“___ _

____“I get it.” He shook off Jaskier’s other hand and went to grab for his things; the previous minute’s panic washing away like a bad dream. “Would you be the princess in this circumstance?”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier flipped him off, backing away with a smirk on his face and flopping back into his mess of blankets and sunlit sheets, “You wish.”_ _ _ _

____He laughed, deep and from his core, brushing any remaining anxiety from off of his form and restoring his desperately needed confidence. Jaskier so loved that sound along with all that came with it; the small crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the steady vibration that reverberated through the air, even the small snorts he tried to hide when he couldn’t contain it in just his throat. Geralt laughed like claps of thunder erupting throughout the sky and Jaskier just happened to love the rain._ _ _ _

____Geralt watched Jaskier watch him in an unawkward silence. The small tilt of his head, making sure he really was as ok as he said he was; the smile he tried to hide, the small yawn that came after. He had become so caught up in the look on Jaskier’s face that it almost slipped out. A repetitive trio of words announcing themselves over and over again, sitting on his lips where they had never sat before. For anyone- ever. His face drew back in surprise, eyes widening. He realized then that there was something, someone, he had to lose._ _ _ _

____“What’s that face for?” Jaskier furrowed his brow, fully prepared to play an encore, fully missing the epic series of emotions playing out silently before him._ _ _ _

____He shook his head, the words subsequently fading into the close distance of his mind. “Nothing, I uh-“ He scratched the back of his head, flustered, “Just wanted to get another look at you.” There was a pause, “I think you have some drool on your face.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier squinted and wiped his mouth, ignoring the clattering of his heart and ultimately finding no drool to speak of. He rolled his eyes, turning his back to him in an attempt to fall back asleep. “If you, the immortal in the room, don’t stop talking about dying I’m going to kill you myself.”_ _ _ _

____“I’d love to see you try.” He turned to leave the room finally, taking one last scan of the room with a subtle tremble in his fingertips. He stared at the outline of Jaskier’s body beneath the sheets, a tremor in his chest causing him to sigh and close the door with a silent click. He could stand there all day._ _ _ _

____\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_ _ _ _

____As Jaskier had told him, damn the bard for being right yet again, the beast was down within the second hour; Geralt having only scraped knees and a nasty bruise to show for his efforts. Along with the seven foot carcass, naturally. He and Roach made their way back into the village to a wall of gasps and blinking eyes; unbelieving of what was before them._ _ _ _

____“Is this really so?”_ _ _ _

____“…but there we so many before him!”_ _ _ _

____“I told you lot so! He’s a Witcher for fucks sake!”_ _ _ _

____Geralt couldn’t help but snicker, leading Roach to the stable in front of the inn and throwing the beast onto the dirt for all to gander and gawk at. They crowded around it, poking the corpse with sticks and the occasional finger; staring at the Witcher in disbelief. A bag of coin was tossed at his feet, the villager it belonged to bowing as a sign of his thanks and kicking the dead monster; eliciting a cheer from the crowd._ _ _ _

____“Don’t touch my horse.” His voice was flat, the smallest indication of a threat lacing itself around each word. Turning his back to the now elated group, he entered the dimly lit inn to collect his bard and be on his way. Those inside cared not of his valiant effort or their protection that came along with it. All they were concerned with was the drink in their hands, the wench at their sides and a pillow to lay their heads on._ _ _ _

____He preferred this crowd over many; the silent, brooding types much like himself. They asked far less questions, if they even looked at him at all._ _ _ _

____The door was open when he came back to the room, Jaskier practically vibrating with excitement at the sight of him. He clapped his hands in rapid succession, jumping up and down like a child. “There he is! Our hero of the land!”_ _ _ _

____“I just did what I always do; and don’t call me a hero. We’ve been over this.” He laid down his sword and took off his chest plate, falling down backwards on the bed with a loud groan.  
Jaskier peered out the window, catching the villagers swaying back and forth over the corpse of the monster, the lowest indication of a song making its way up through the glass. He gestured with his thumb to the scene below, “Tell that to those weirdos. If you’re lucky they might just make a statue of you.” Looking over to Geralt, his face flattened, as he was the only one who found his joke funny. “Fine, I hope a ballad of mine will suffice.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt sat up, cracked his neck and wiped the blood from his face. The feelings of this morning came back at the sight of Jaskier. His warmth, his smile, the look of pride in his eyes which he’d never verbalize. Geralt missed him, moreso now than he could ever remember. The words came back to his lips, quickly shut down with a “Hm”, to answer Jaskier’s rhetorical statement._ _ _ _

____“I want to go.” The now exhausted man rose from the bed, a series of cracks from his bones filling the air. He started to collect his things from where he threw them on the floor and gestured for Jaskier to do the same. “These people make me uncomfortable.”_ _ _ _

____The bard looked out the window again, catching the group stare back at him, “You know what, for once I agree with you.” He slung his lute over his shoulder, “I’d like the miss the cult meeting, cloaks don’t really suit me.” Geralt snorted and opened the door for him, catching the chamomile scent in his shampoo as he walked by into the hallway. He stood still with the door still in his hand, staring at the wall, the scent fading from the air. Where he went, Geralt had no clue, but he wasn’t where he stood._ _ _ _

____Jaskier stopped, turning slightly on his heel and looking him up and down. He waved a hand in front of his face,“Earth to Geralt? Are you alright? Hellllloooooo?”_ _ _ _

____He suddenly came back, smacking the hand away with a scowl plastered to his face.“Is there a reason that I shouldn’t be alright? I’m still walking aren’t I?” He didn’t mean to sound so standoffish, but the tone came through anyway. Shaking his head to gather his thoughts, Geralt closed the door and left Jaskier in the hallway, ears red._ _ _ _

____The bard nodded, not fully believing him but taking what he could get. “If you say so. I mean, you are the valiant hero; saver of women and babes, protector of men and the wise, the…” He went on and on, successfully annoying Geralt into a series of groans and wayward glances, getting to just the right amount that all who crossed their path to Roach moved aside._ _ _ _

____The townspeople fell into a hush, catching the flecks of orange seemingly glow amongst the pools of amber and yellow as he mounted the mare. Rather than fear for his life as they did at sunrise, the reality of who they praised hit them. This Witcher, the mutant baby-killer of legend._ _ _ _

____The scent of fear had stopped bothering him decades ago. Though, his irritation towards humans hadn’t shifted much until they all suddenly needed his help. It was Jaskier who never gave off this potent emotion, even when he ranted and raved and nearly lost his composure. It was he who helped bring Geralt to the realization that perhaps humans could like him for a change._ _ _ _

____What did a of group of strangers matter compared to the one he trusted with his horse?_ _ _ _

____Jaskier walked alongside them as they hit the open rode, leaving the town behind; humming to himself what was to be the new melody of his next ballad. Geralt pretended not to, but he listened in, moving his head from side to side at the rises and falls of each note; though he dared not smile._ _ _ _

____“Hey Jask?” He felt a lump in his throat. Why he spoke up he had no idea, he had nothing of importance to say._ _ _ _

____“What? Was that too fast paced?” He caught the red coming overtop Geralt’s ears and laughed. “You really should try better to control your dancing- don’t sigh at me like that!” He jogged to catch up with him. “Fine, I’m sorry for laughing at you, go ahead, speak.”_ _ _ _

____Geralt, embarrassed, shook his head and looked forward. “Forget it.”_ _ _ _

____“No, not ‘forget it’ Sir Broods-A-Lot.” He ran in front of Roach, forcing Geralt to look at him. “What?” His voice dropped lower, softer. “Did I- do something?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, you did.” He watched Jaskier’s eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise. “Fuck” Geralt quickly dismounted the horse and walked up to him waving his hands. “No, no not like that I didn’t mean that you did anything wrong. Fuck.” He put his hands on his hips and sighed, “I just wanted to say thank you for this morning.”_ _ _ _

____“Really?”_ _ _ _

____“Hm. I probably would have been… worse off had you not talked to me.” He didn’t know how to talk about his feelings, much less thank someone he had pretended to dislike for so many years._ _ _ _

____Jaskier perked up and smiled, the grin being infectious. Geralt quickly turned back to Roach to hide it, getting back on and pressing forward. The bard stood where he was, dumbfounded; Geralt had never told him ‘thank you’ for anything before. Let alone for something he did during his Witcher’s rare moment of vulnerability; which he didn’t think was possible anyway._ _ _ _

____“Are you coming?” Geralt called from down the road, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, “I thought you wanted to miss the cult meeting.” He could see Jaskier smile from where he was, and the shuffling of his feet as he ran to catch up with them._ _ _ _

____The tremor in his chest was only silenced by a loud series of coughs and the bard once again by his side._ _ _ _


	2. The Last Night of Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the night's turn cold, and Geralt's restraint begins to falter; our Witcher decides that he can't just sit and watch Jaskier shiver.

Summer was long gone; green fields turned to brown, plush trees left barren. Their days of travel became short and almost nonexistent; creeping along the continent with a destination never in mind but a schedule always to stick to. Geralt loved this time of year, given his sense of style and stature, the cold had never bothered him as much as it did his companion. Though they’d been together for more autumn’s than he could care to count, Jaskier still acted as though the turning of the leaves was the end of the world. 

He had been telling Jaskier to get a proper cloak for years, the bard (as usual) never listened.

They had spent all season with one another, neither straying to stay warm with others as they had done in years past. There wasn’t a real reason too; what had seemed to be desirable traits in others before, they now found within one another. Lovers that had come out of the woodwork in villages both thought were brand new went ignored, if not overtly avoided.

This was an odd transition for Jaskier in particular; staying away from his many admirers (happy to see him and out for his neck alike) posed an interesting lack of challenge from him. He felt nothing for them, wanted nothing. What he saw in Geralt’s eyes remained unmatched- even to the women rapping at his door on those fall evenings which would make any man quiver. There was also the fact that Geralt had actually started to listen to his complaining and had even asked for his opinion in some fairly important travel plans. He didn’t question why, more than that, he didn’t want to know. The Witcher was a complicated creature, that he knew- and that was enough for him.

Geralt couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. The very idea made him scowl and shake his head in abject impertinence; there was no one, neither woman or man, that could be him. He didn’t know where such a ferocity of passion for the bard came from. All he knew was that it was there, and whether he knew how to express it or not, he wanted to protect such a rare feeling more than most things in his life. Besides Roach of course. No one had made him laugh as Jaskier had, nor question himself as much, or make him want to change for the better. He liked who he was when he and Jaskier spoke on early mornings and late evenings; he was not a “Witcher” but a man. How he craved to just be a man. 

But he could not focus on that now, as autumn had begun to usher itself out and he had to turn most of his attention to keeping Jaskier alive. Which for someone as stubborn yet lucky as he was, happened to be a very difficult task. 

“You really couldn’t find _anywhere _to stop for the night?” Jaskier whined, curling his knees to his chest and scooting close to the building fire.__

__“No.” Geralt threw on another log and sat across from him, shivering but not wanting to show it on his face. “There isn’t another town for at least a two hours ride. It’s sundown. There’s wolves.”_ _

__Jaskier sat forward, face scrunched in irritation, “Wolves? You’re concerned about fucking _wolves _?” He started to laugh, “I have to admit, you’re quite the jokester sometimes.”___ _

____“They’d go for you first,” Geralt sighed and started to stand up, “But I mean if you’re willing to take one-“_ _ _ _

____“Alright alright, you know what,” He pat the ground, “this patch of frozen grass is quite comfortable.”_ _ _ _

____Nodding his head, Geralt sat back down, an ache in his spine unwinding itself against the chill of the rock he had leaned himself up against. Work had also picked up in these colder months; creatures rising from their crypts and hovels and pouncing in the dead of night. It felt wrong dragging Jaskier along through these months of danger and pain. In fact, in one of their rare, real fights, he had told Jaskier to leave. That he deserved to play his songs for all to hear rather than risk his life by mere association._ _ _ _

____“Are you kidding me?” The memory flashed across his eyes while he stared into the fire. “Traveling with you has been the thrill of my life, what else could I be doing?”_ _ _ _

____They were along the side of a quiet rode, giving Roach a break after a long morning of travel. Geralt stared down at the mare, unwilling to meet his eyes. “You could be married by now, be a big star. I’m keeping you from that.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier thought for a second, taken aback. “Who said that I wanted either of those things?”_ _ _ _

____“I can see it on your face. You forget how old I am, I’ve seen so many people just like you be ripped to shreds or die on some hill of an adventure you never saw.” Geralt looked up at him, startling himself by holding back a tear. “I don’t want that for you.”_ _ _ _

____He chuckled, “Good thing it won’t happen.”_ _ _ _

____“And why won’t it?” Geralt crossed his arms and looked up, eyebrows furrowed deeply._ _ _ _

____“You wouldn’t allow it.” Jaskier laughed as his face relaxed immediately, clearly taking the Witcher by surprise. “Geralt, you won’t let me eat in towns you don’t like because you think I’ll get sick- let alone get close enough to be killed by anything.”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t know that, I could be out one day and you could wander or-“ He started to go on and on, thinking of all the possibilities of what could take Jaskier from him._ _ _ _

____Jaskier walked over to him and punched him in the arm, shaking him back to reality and shutting him up. “I’m a grown man, remember?”_ _ _ _

____“Is that what you call it?”_ _ _ _

____Geralt chuckled to himself, looking across the fire and at Jaskier, who had become preoccupied with making a pillow out of loose dirt. He lolled his head to the side and watched silently, both intrigued and confused at this man who called himself such. His tongue was poking in intense focus from between his lips; a face commonly known to Geralt from all the nights he spent frantically scribbling on whatever he could get his hands on when a lyric struck him. A chill ran through the air and through his bones, making the fire sway wildly._ _ _ _

____Jaskier shivered, giving up on his project and looking up, startled to find himself under observation. It hadn’t been lost on him the way Geralt tried so hard to hide his glances. The man was piss-poor at subtly, and even worse at attempting to lie. He knew better to call him out on it and ruin his chances for anything at all. It was refreshing to be pursued, even in subtly, rather than constantly chasing. That didn’t mean that Geralt made such a vision easy however. In fact, there were days when he was so desperate for a glance he put on his show persona just for a walk through the woods or to get something to eat._ _ _ _

____The wind blew right through them again, making Jaskier’s teeth chatter. “Listen, there’s no way in hell this fire is going to keep us warm, unless walking with nine toes becomes all the rage.” He stood up, shuffling to the other side next to Geralt and sitting a safe distance away; unwilling to test his luck. “Not to say you didn’t do a good job,” Geralt looked at him, scowled really, the amber colored light reflecting off of his face sending Jaskier’s chest into a frenzy. “I’ve never seen someone, set stuff on fire- um, so well, before.” He gulped, looking straight ahead. “I’m not sure if you realize this, but us humans can freeze to death.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m aware.”_ _ _ _

____“So you’re going to let me freeze to death?”_ _ _ _

____“Hm.”_ _ _ _

____“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”_ _ _ _

____Geralt looked ahead, uncrossed an arm from his chest and extended it in Jaskier’s direction. The shivering man stared, unmoving. He looked in the direction of his arm, then back to Jaskier's red face, “Well? Are you coming or shall I let you freeze?”_ _ _ _

____He nodded his head slowly, confused and caught off guard, but knowing to take an opportunity when he saw it. Shuffling over awkwardly on his knees, Jaskier propped himself just under Geralt’s chin, unable to breathe or do much of anything besides stare wide-eyes at the ground. They sat like that for a moment, frozen and unsure of what else to do besides avoid eye contact and pretending they were both comfortable. But the cold seeped in, tiredness had taken them over, and as the minutes turned into an hour, neither cared much more about pretending._ _ _ _

____“Geralt, I can’t sleep if we’re both sitting up.”_ _ _ _

____“Neither can I.” He kicked another log into the fire and shook Jaskier off of his shoulder, making a whine slip from between the man’s lips. Jaskier watched in silence as Geralt laid down, propping his head up with one arm and re-extending the previous back out to him. “Come on now.”_ _ _ _

____He did as he was told, awkwardly cuddling himself close to Geralt’s chest, unsure of what to do with his hands and trying hard to keep breathing as he did moments ago. Putting an ear over Geralt’s heart, he found that not only was Geralt not breathing, but his heart was going a mile a minute. Jaskier smiled, “I haven’t made you nervous have I?”_ _ _ _

____Geralt closed his eyes, the day’s ride wearing itself into him, “No.” He lied, coughing to cover the audible gulp that came afterwards._ _ _ _

____“You sure?” Getting comfortable, he threw an arm around Geralt’s chest and latched himself on him a koala, “Because the last thing I want to do is make you nervous.” Jaskier nuzzled his head, taking one last look at his companion’s barely contained scowl before closing his eyes. “Goodnight Geralt.”_ _ _ _

____“Night Jask, I-“ His eyes snapped back open, chest halting, time frozen. It had been an unconscious turn from one word to the next. The feeling of another heartbeat other than his own bringing it out from an unknown place within him. He looked down at Jaskier, just to see if the bard had heard him, cursing his own heart for picking up the pace._ _ _ _

____Jaskier had opened one eye, hearing such a thing with minimal effort. Looking up at him, he poked at one of Geralt’s ribs to try and coax him to speak, “You what?” He started to stir, the larger man squeezing his shoulder reassuringly to get him to stay where he was. The Witcher liked being this close to him; feeling his own body keep him warm, the way the hand at his side absently traced letters into the cloth of his shirt that he was too tired to decipher, the subtle smell of flowers coming from his clothes._ _ _ _

____“Nothing, um- goodnight.” He couldn’t turn away, lest he throw the man headfirst into the dirt. But he did fall within himself, hearing only the whistling of the wind and feeling the chuckle that went through Jaskier’s body; and the eventual even tone of his breathing when it matched with his own as he finally fell asleep. Geralt bit his lip, looking down to assure that he really was asleep, “I wanted to say that I-“_ _ _ _

____Jaskier mumbled into his shirt. “Are you talking to me?”  
“Fuck!” He whispered, the sudden sound catching him off guard, “Nothing, nothing. Go back to sleep.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you sure?” Jaskier started to stir, only to be pulled tighter and immediately giving up._ _ _ _

____He thought for a second, playing the handful of scenarios through his tired mind and deciding to save the conversation for another day, if ever. “Mhm. Go to sleep.”_ _ _ _

____The bard threw his leg over one of Geralt’s, shivered and fell back asleep within seconds; not needing to be told twice. The fire died soon after, leaving the Witcher as the only source of warmth between them. As daybreak came over the sky, he found Jaskier’s hand in his hair, the other keeping close to his chest. Geralt decided then that he didn’t mind at all, and that the fall was to remain his favorite time of year._ _ _ _


	3. The First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a blizzard sweeping the land, Geralt and Jaskier find themselves stuck at and inn for the rest of the season.

The sky had churned itself into a mix of violets and deep blues that looked like the black of night when they finally made it to town. It had been a long day, one Jaskier spent clinging onto his Witcher’s back for warmth; Geralt trying his hardest to ignore the shivering moving the saddle and keeping an ear out for talks of a great blizzard. There had been whispers of such a storm from the lips of everyone he had seen on their ride to nowhere, an odd sense of fear coating their eyes when they realized the pair had no place to call home. 

He had almost considered seeking out a cave to ride out the storm as the sun set deeper into the horizon.

A Sheppard bringing in his flock had taken a liking to them, moreso Roach than either of the men, and led them back to his village as the snow started to stick to the dirt. 

Unlike many others, this place had been the recipient of a Witcher’s touch in season’s past. They quickly realized this upon their arrival; not a single villager blinked an eye nor did a child scream. Geralt was relieved but slightly disappointed, he quite enjoyed the fun of scaring strangers. 

Dismounting Roach and getting her settled into the stables for what was to be an unrelenting night, he had then encountered his worst nightmare: casual conversation. Men discussing the state of the weather, how much it was to snow and lamenting on and on about politics. He didn’t utter a word, choosing to mumble his comments under his breath and avert his eyes for fears of being roped into a talk about mistresses. 

Jaskier watched this with a smirk across his lips from the threshold of the stable, staring between the darkening sky and Geralt’s incessant blinking. Catching him staring back, he looked away and blushed, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’m going to freeze my ass off out here, hurry up!”

He chuckled, “No one told you to stay and watch.” The depth of his voice- left unused all day because of the frigid chill, halted the conversation behind him; the men now focused entirely on them. 

“I know.” Jaskier kicked at a rock like a child and crossed his arms, now embarrassed at the feeling of eyes scanning his body. “I didn’t want to leave you alone. But if you insist.” He mumbled and turned around on his heels with a twirl of his cloak, really Geralt’s, and went back out into the white-coated darkness. 

A hand clamped down on Geralt’s shoulder, breaking his concentration on Jaskier’s fading form and making him tense instinctively. “Can I help you?” He didn’t turn around, intensely staring down at the knot which he had tied and untied four times in a row. 

“Is that yer fella?” The hand patted him and retracted, feeling the tightness of his muscles. 

“Excuse me?” Geralt furrowed his brows, turning around and coming almost nose to nose with a man equivalent to that of Santa Claus. He loosened his face, feeling odd for staring such a way at someone so visually undeserving. 

The man laughed, putting an arm to his belly and looking at the two others behind him with a smile, “I asked if that was yer fella, yer companion, yer- what’s another word for partner?” 

One of the other men snorted, “Partner?”

“Who’s asking?” His voiced dropped lower than before; tired, hungry and in no mood to be questioned by strangers. Especially if Jaskier was the subject. The bard was nothing more than a friend to him; a friend which he adored and would surely lay down his life for if necessary. 

There was a twist in his stomach, his onlookers catching the subtle smile coming over his chapped lips.

The man laughed again and put up his hands as if to ward him off, “Relax my friend, I’ll take that as a maybe.” Geralt cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Oh my,” He turned his head to face the other men. “He’s got no idea.” 

Geralt stood there, feeling like a small child lost at the market, and hopelessly confused. He felt his cheeks grow hot and he grumbled, throwing the knot down and stalking out of the barn. The man laughed deeply behind him, not making fun but in genuine amusement. 

“You should tell him!” The jolly man shouted after him as he donned his hood to face the snow.

Geralt turned only his head, the amber glow from the visible eye making the men draw silent, “And what should I say?” His voice was quiet, he was flushed and uncomfortable; covering such with an air of defensiveness he had developed from years in solitude. “Since you clearly know me so well.” 

Unimpressed and more than that unconvinced, the man in a series of slow strides left his friends and joined Geralt with a smile. He dared not touch him again, knowing he ruffled the deceptively younger looking Witcher. “That you love him lad, it’s plain as day on that scratched up face of yours.” 

He looked to the floor and sighed, deciding whether to be annoyed or vulnerable. “Is it that obvious? 

Rather than answer, the man pointed to the inn and matched Geralt’s gaze on the ground; not moving finger nor eye until Geralt gathered himself up enough to do the same. He was confused, but for only a moment, and nodded his thanks before stalking off into the now snow covered field. 

Tonight was as good a night as any, fear be damned. 

There was a gust of warm, smoky air that rushed over him as he pushed the door to the inn open; a small pile of snow tracking onto the carpet at his heels. The scent of cooking meat and charred wood brought a smile to his face; this was far better than a cave.

Jaskier had already begun to talk up a storm at the bar, animatedly waving his arms around and to Geralt’s surprise, not singing.

“There he is!” Jaskier’s face lit up at the sight of him, quickly dismounting the barstool and walking over, leaving a pair of women to finally drink in silence. He helped him pull off his coat and leaned into Geralt’s ear, raising the hair on his spine, “I was just talking about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

Jaskier scoffed, “Naturally.”

Geralt shook the snow from atop his head and shoulders and looked around. The inn was empty spare for the two women at the bar, a cat heard but not seen and the bartender who looked to be in need of a fifty year sleep. He suddenly became aware of the rumbling of his stomach and the dryness of his throat. “Have you eaten?” 

“No, but I’ve had a drink and that’s close enough.” He smiled, reaching out to brush some melting snow off a loose strand of hair in front of Geralt’s face. “What took you so long? I was starting to get worried that you left me.”

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows, resisting the urge to grab Jaskier by the hands, “I’d never leave you, anywhere, ever.” The bard’s half-smile but confused impression made his cheeks grow hot; he was clearly kidding- the Witcher missing such entirely. “Um, someone in the barn needed directions.” He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat, “I’m hungry.” 

He pushed past him, trying his hardest to avoid both eye contact and the lump developing in his throat. Waving down the barkeep, he didn’t have to say anything, they only had one option. Ale almost as pale as water and a beef stew that didn’t quite look to be cow. The tired man stared at him as he played with his food and sighed, putting the spoon in his mouth and deciding ultimately that he’d eaten worse. 

Jaskier sat beside him in silence, nursing his ale and humming to himself; he knew better than to speak to Geralt when he was hungry. 

The bowl becoming thoroughly empty and the sigh of satisfaction from Geralt’s mouth lightened his expression, as if he’d come alive again. He turned to look at Jaskier, who had become occupied in drawing with his finger a flower through the condensation of his tanker. The tip of his nose was red from the heat of the room, highlighting a star-like collection of freckles which he’d never noticed before. His steely blue eyes reflected almost green in the warm light, creating circles of yellow around his pupils. 

The bard was beautiful to him, he thought silently while trying desperately not to stare. It was in that moment which Geralt realized that he was ruined forever. 

“Geralt?” 

He realized then that he was looking wide-eyed at Jaskier’s fingers, lost in some other world. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” He had noticed the wandering glances and latches in his breath whenever they made eye contact. If anything, Jaskier made the gaps between longer on purpose, just to watch the relief flood Geralt’s eyes when they finally saw met again. “You’re not going to be sick are you?” 

He shook his head, both to blur the image of the man’s face and as a response. He waved down the barkeep and signaled for two more bowls of the mystery stew. “You need to eat, you’re insufferable when you’re drunk.”

Jaskier laughed, pushing the doodled-on tanker away and shrugging his shoulders. “I was simply testing out this place’s ale. We’re going to be holed up here for a while by the look of it and it would be a tragedy if we had to go through it completely sober.”

“Maybe I wanted to spend some time with you uninebriated.”

He was caught off guard and his face reflected so, with wide doe eyes and slight part of his lips. Geralt stared back, surprised at his own boldness but not letting on by more than a furrow of his brow. They were pulled from their now dancing gazes by the attempted concealment of laughter coming from over Geralt’s shoulder. The women sitting next to them had been watching, with heavy amusement, their exchange and whispering to one another as if at a play.

Geralt’s brow deepened, turning from Jaskier and to the pair, “What’s funny? I love a good laugh.” His voice, now wetted by ale, was not as deep as it had been with the men in the barn; though still gruff as it always was. 

The women stopped laughing immediately and straightened, one with darker hair and thick scar parting her nose reaching towards her hip. Jaskier noticed this and piped up abruptly, rising from his chair and standing next to Geralt’s still sitting form, extending a hand cautiously. “I don’t think you had the chance to meet my friend properly. This is Geralt, the man I was telling you about. Remember, Gwen?”

Gwen looked from Geralt to Jaskier again, the air was tense with a remaining chill from outside and dull hostility. The woman by her side, a blonde who gave off the scent of summer, put a hand to her shoulder in an attempt to calm her. “Oh I remember,” She answered for her companion. “He looks even younger that you told us he was, how old are you exactly?” She turned her head from Gwen to Geralt with a smile that reached her eyes. “Jaskier gave us an estimate but even that was quite old, if you don’t mind my saying.” 

He sighed deeply, relaxing more now that he knew he wouldn’t have to punch a woman. “It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.” Jaskier laughed awkwardly and leaned his arm on Geralt’s shoulder, digging his elbow into his neck as a cue to be polite. He winced, “Honestly I’ve lost count.”

The blonde woman blinked rapidly and smacked Gwen’s arm, making her wince in almost the same fashion. “I completely forgot my manners! How did you let me forget?” 

“I’m your wife, not you’re mother.” Her voice was raspy and cold, though her eyes reflected that of love and deep adoration.

The men paused for a moment and looked to one another and without missing a beat turned back to the pair.

The blonde kissed Gwen on the cheek and took her hand, “I’m Elizabeth, pleased to meet you Geralt of Rivia. I’ve heard so many things about you.” She extended her other hand out to Geralt, which he took, quickly being caught off guard by the strength of her grip. 

“Has he really talked that much?” He laughed, attempting to relax even more and voluntarily took a swig of the watered ale. “Or does my reputation proceed me?” 

“Both.” Elizabeth and Gwen spoke at the same time. 

The group laughed and talked almost all night, pausing only to sip or chew or stare at who came in and out of the quiet inn. Jaskier led most of the conversation, getting tipsy enough to lead the whole place in an acapella version of “Toss A Coin.” The snow had dragged a draft through the whole room, leading to Elizabeth sitting on her wife’s lap rather than a stool, with the excuse that she was warmer.

Jaskier stopped talking only to take a quick run to the bathroom, leaving the women and Geralt alone. He was uncomfortable, though he had grown to know the pair over the handful of hours, he couldn’t help but feel like he was interrupting something. He was raised better than to stare, though they perplexed him with their outward expression of their love for one another. 

After a silent handful of minutes, Gwen cleared her throat. “So how long have you and Jaskier been married?” 

He choked on his drink, slamming the tanker down on the counter and hunched over; punching at his chest to breathe. The women laughed, more to themselves than at Geralt. He sat back up, eyes wild and cheeks hot. “We’re not married.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well you fooled me.” Elizabeth handed him a handkerchief out of Gwen’s breast pocket. “You’ve got something on your cheek.”

He snatched it from her and coughed once more, “Wh-why would you think we’re married?” He once again was confused, but more than that worried. If he had given himself away to strangers, telling Jaskier how he felt would now almost be obsolete. 

“Well for one, you both had so much to say about eachother, I thought you’d been together for years.” Gwen said matter-of-factly. “You also bicker just like we do, it was kind of funny how much you both remind me of us.” She kissed the top of Elizabeth’s hand still entangled in her own. “Are you two engaged? Dating? Something?” 

“Hm.” Geralt thought for a second, or at least pretended to; though he didn’t have to think long before a melody of humming came close to his ear. 

Jaskier laid a cold hand on his shoulder, “What are you lot talking about?” There was a subtle slur in his voice and he swayed gently as he spoke. “By the way, it’s up to my knees out there, hope you all are getting along; we’re going to be here for a while.” 

Ignoring the bit about the weather, Geralt’s face went slack as he rose. “You went outside? In that?!” He went to the front of the inn and took his cloak from the hook where it had since dried with the heat of the fire, rushing back and throwing it over Jaskier’s shoulders. “Sit down, I can’t believe you went outside in just your doublet you could’ve gotten frostbite and-“ He kept muttering under his breath until Jaskier sat down and stopped shivering. 

Elizabeth and Gwen looked to one another and giggled lightly, getting up from the bar and stretching. “I think we’re going to call it a night gentlemen,” Gwen shook both of their hands and nodded, “Guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” 

Geralt nodded as a response and Jaskier waved like a small child, the multiple tankers of ale making his lids go heavy. With a poor attempt at subtly, Elizabeth winked at Geralt and pointed with her chin to Jaskier, making the man groan and blush. 

“What was that about?” Drowning in the cloak almost twice his size, Jaskier looked up at him, “I feel like I missed something.”

He smiled and wiped some droplets of melted snow from Jaskier’s hair, “You didn’t miss anything, come on, let’s get you to bed.”

The bard attempted to stand up, though from the weight of the cloak, the booze and his exhaustion, that attempt quickly failed. Geralt caught him by the shoulders and laughed, shaking his head in amusement, “What am I going to do with you?” He smiled, catching himself grinning wider than usual and for once didn’t attempt to stifle it. 

“I think you’re going to have to carry me, there’s no way I can get up the stairs,” He groaned, “I’m too tired.” 

“I know your bullshit when I hear it, get up.” Geralt let him go and folded his arms, still smiling. Only when he swayed back and forth with his eyes closed did Geralt realize that Jaskier wasn’t kidding. He reached out again and gently attempted to take him by the shoulders, only to be shrugged off.

“No, no, don’t bother now,” He took a few steps forward, dramatically flicking the cape behind him. “My bullshit and I are quite fine without you.” He then tripped over a raised part of the floor and nearly lost a tooth had it not been for the stool at his side. “Help.”

Watching him there for a moment, Geralt shook his head and sighed, going to his aid before he devolved into a fit of whining. He lowered himself to the floor and, with minimal effort, scooped the man up from the floor and into his arms. Jaskier gasped, making Geralt pause with one foot on the stair, “What?” 

“Nothing, I just-“

Geralt kept walking, looking down not at Jaskier but at the stairs to make sure they both didn’t end up on the floor. Making it to the landing, he finally let out a deep breath and looked to Jaskier, who was on the border of falling asleep. He was, however, just awake enough to brush a stray piece of Geralt’s hair behind his ear. They stared in silence for a beat, neither the sound of others in the rooms around them or below them breaking the contact as it has in the past. 

_“This could be the moment...” _Geralt thought to himself, a warmth growing at the tips of ears which Jaskier had surely felt. He parted his lips to speak, a loud moan coming from down the hall filling the space instead. Jaskier, ever the mature one, broke out into a fit of intoxicated giggles, almost throwing Geralt off of his balance and sending the pair tumbling down the stairs.__

__“You’re unbelievable.”_ _

__“And you’re blushing.”_ _

__He opened his mouth to defend himself, but decided quickly that whatever came out would surely embarrass himself to the point of no return. Instead, he gripped Jaskier tighter and made his way to the room, kicking in the already open door and sighing. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”_ _

__Jaskier laughed nervously, “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”_ _

__“You couldn’t have asked for two beds?”_ _

__“There weren’t any more available!” He slapped gently at Geralt’s bicep, “Stop complaining! We could be freezing to death in some cave or something knowing you.”_ _

__The day had begun to wear on him, Geralt’s arms growing tired from the mans deadweight. Placing him down on the bed like some fragile thing, he resisted the urge to climb in right next to him. Not that he didn’t like the idea of sharing a bed, he just didn’t want to make Jaskier uncomfortable._ _

__Jaskier however, wasted no time wrapping himself up in both the blanket and cloak like a caterpillar; not offering nor telling Geralt not to get in bed next to him. Within minutes he was asleep and snoring, Geralt standing over him with his hands on his hips and a tired expression on his face._ _

__“The floor it is then.” Cloak-less and without a pillow, Geralt laid flat on his back beside the bed, staring up at the ceiling and playing the day over in his mind; overthinking every opening he had to just spit it out and get it over with. He had the words but not the feeling, in the end thanking himself for not saying anything at all._ _

__There was a draft coming from the wall at his other side, the chill wearing itself though his shirt and into his skin, making the floor like a cold slab of marble rather than just wood. He hadn’t even realized that his teeth had begun to chatter. Jaskier stirred, looking over the side of the bed with his eyes mostly closed, “Geralt? Are you still awake?”_ _

__“Hm.”_ _

__“Are you cold?” He paused, “Don’t lie to me.”_ _

__Geralt tightened his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest, “No.” He was a terrible liar._ _

__Jaskier sighed and disappeared from the edge of the bed with a series of creaks and shifting blankets. He smacked the mattress, “Come here, before we both freeze.”_ _

__He hesitated for a moment before another gust of wind nearly made his hair stand on end. Swallowing hard, he rose from the floor but paused at the sight of Jaskier opening his arms for him to lay in front of him. “Um, Jask?”_ _

__“What?” His eyes were closed._ _

__“Turn around?”_ _

__His eyes snapped open, tone frustrated with exhaustion and growing frigidness, “Listen, either you get over here and lay down or you stay on that cold, hard, uncomfortable-“_ _

__He held up his hands defensively, “Alright, alright!” Laying down finally, Jaskier wrapped his arms around him and fell right back to sleep; snoring into the crook of Geralt’s neck. He laid rigid for a moment, this was something new for him; which at his age and in his profession, wasn’t something that happened often._ _

__Jaskier stirred, clutching his arm tighter around his waist and with that Geralt was gone; overcome with fondness and exhaustion that he couldn’t help but fall asleep with a smile on his face._ _

__The stark white sunlight woke him up the next morning, the uncurtained windows forcing the snow’s reflection straight into his eyes. Although they were on the second floor, he could see the height of the snow in the distance; coming up to almost half the trunk of the great oak tree outside the inn. Jaskier lay next to him, arm draped gently across Geralt’s chest and head placed perfectly against his shoulder. His breath was even and low, as it usually was when he was in a deep sleep. Geralt dare not move, afraid to ruin whatever dream he was having, but he found himself missing the comforting blue of his eyes. He was sure they would look beautiful in the morning light._ _

__Craning his head down, he watched Jaskier’s eyelashes brush against his chest with each breath he tried to keep the same to not wake him up. The light shifted, a bright white now dimming as a cloud passed in front of the sun. Seeing him clearer than before in the darker hue, Geralt started to speak._ _

__“You know, I never realized how pretty you are. Which is an odd thing to say from one man to another, but you really are.” He whispered, barely putting sound behind his words. “Right here, right now, I don’t want to be anywhere else.” Jaskier started to stir as the sun came back around and straight into his closed eyes. He stopped speaking immediately, sitting still and letting him get comfortable against his chest again. When his breath evened out, Geralt continued. “You know, I’ve never let someone be this close to me before- and more than once at that. Physically I mean, because quite honestly if you decided to stab me right now, I’d be a goner.” He laughed lightly at his own joke. “I don’t know why I trust you so much.” Geralt sighed, closing his eyes, “I think I- well I know I-“_ _

__Jaskier yawned, stretching out his arms and legs and knocking Geralt upside the head. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the snow-soaked light and groaning. His hands felt around, stopping abruptly as the events of last night came back to him and Geralt’s chest heaved under his fingertips. He looked slowly from his hands to Geralt’s face, his lips parting as he looked from mouth to nose and finally meeting his eyes. “Hi.”_ _

__“Morning.”_ _

__“Sleep well?” Jaskier didn’t know what to do with his hands all of a sudden, wanting to keep them where they were but not wanting to make Geralt uncomfortable. They were so close together, however, that there was really no where else to put them._ _

__He didn’t mind, and didn’t acknowledge the now wandering hands as he tried desperately to find somewhere, anywhere else to keep them. Geralt put one arm behind his head, not wanting to get up and destroy the moment. “You move a lot when you sleep, so not really.” He looked down at him, catching the embarrassed glaze that flashed over his eyes, “I’m kidding, I slept like a baby. You’ve got quite a comforting grip.”_ _

__“Oh yeah?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow, tightening the arm still latched to Geralt, making him exhale sharply. They both laughed and in the absence of their voices appreciated the silence of the inn before the rest woke up as they did and the day officially began._ _

__The bard sat up and stretched, breaking the moment without any real knowledge of such and leaving Geralt to lay alone. He added to his mental tally of openings in which he said nothing rather than what his mouth and chest wanted him to. Once again he felt the special something which had reserved itself for when they were once again truly alone. He would get it right one day, which he now knew in their current and growing closeness could be whichever one he wanted._ _

__Though he was sure the man didn’t know that his very presence made that everyday._ _

__“Why are you looking at me like that?”_ _

__“Just dozing off again, it’s nothing.” Another tally._ _


	4. The Last Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As spring rolls around, the pair have no place to go, but so much to say.

They rode out the rest of winter on that straw-stuffed mattress. Yuletide celebrations spent holed up at the stab-wounded bar and drinking with those just as unlucky at they were. It was like an overdrawn sleep-away camp, the only activity being drinking contests and daring one another to try and dig out the front door. Both of which usually ended up going hand in hand. 

It wasn’t until late February that the snow began to melt and the warmer weather started to seep through the walls. The draft felt through the cracks of their room no longer made them shiver at night into one another’s arms. Geralt was sad to see it go, though Jaskier had yet to stop holding onto him in the middle of the night. They hadn’t discussed the obvious, Geralt keeping his heart in his chest and his hands to himself begrudgingly for an entire season. He so badly wanted to reach out and take the man into his arms and reveal himself from the inside out. 

But he was so afraid to break their casual intimacy that he stayed quiet, his tallies overflowing. 

On one of these quiet mornings, they laid side by side; Geralt on his back watching the sunrise, Jaskier latched to his chest and dozing on and off. He noticed something different about this morning however; where there once was a piercing white light, there was nothing. The snow did not reflect like it used to. This upset him, causing him to furrow his brow. Geralt liked the light in his eyes, it gave him an excuse to turn on his side and watch Jaskier sleep.

There was a set of rapid-fire knocks on their door, jolting them both straight up and out of bed and giving him no chance to think any further.

Jaskier groaned loudly, stirring and blinking his eyes open slowly. “Let’s pretend we’re both still asleep, maybe they’ll fuck off.” He laid back down and shoved his head under the pillow, pretending to snore loudly. 

“Are you guys awake? I know it’s early but I’ve got some good news!” Elizabeth’s sing-song voice came through the door with a series of knocks to match her tone. 

“One moment!” Geralt swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stretched, his bones cracking with a long exhale as he yawned. He made his way to the door and opened it, barely awake. “This better be good.” 

Elizabeth smiled at the sight of him, looking over his shoulder and waving to Jaskier, who was giving her a dirty look from his spot in bed. “Good to see I wasn’t interrupting anything…” 

“What do you want?” Geralt looked at her with wide eyes as a signal to drop it; she had been dropping little hints on almost a weekly basis for him to talk to Jaskier. Every week, he gave her the same look and the same jolt of subtle pain would hit his stomach. He had yet to figure out his words, too afraid to write them down or speak them aloud; so they lived within him silently. 

She leaned in close, loudly whispering with a bright smile on her face, “The snow’s melted.” 

“It _what _?!” Jaskier tripped out of bed and hurriedly stumbled to the door wiping the sleep from his eyes and ended up leaning on Geralt’s shoulder. “It’s melted? It’s gone? We can leave?” His voice was groggy but frantic, “No offense to you or your lovely wife, I’ve really liked spending time with you lot- especially you.” He flicked a thumb up to Geralt and continued, “But I’m sick and fucking tired of this place.”__

__Elizabeth chuckled at him and nodded, “None taken and yes, the blasted snow is finally gone. We’re free.”_ _

__“Have the others left yet?” Geralt was elated, but still very tired._ _

__“Gwen nearly fought one of the stragglers to be the first one out, but rather than get caught between her and someone else, I figured I ought to come get you two.”_ _

__“Hm.” He extended a hand, “Thank you.”_ _

__She took it and shook firmly, “That’s what friends are for.” Elizabeth looked to Jaskier’s face, laughing heartily as the man was practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ll leave you two to it and try my best to keep Gwen from riding off without us.” Jaskier ran back into the room to start collecting his things, leaving Geralt and Elizabeth in a perilous round of eye contact. “Any day now.” She mouthed, giving him that same look as she walked away._ _

__Geralt shut the door with a purposeful slam, putting his back to the wood and sighing with his eyes closed. The reality had suddenly hit him and he grinned, “We can leave.”_ _

__“That’s what the pretty lady said you ninny!” Jaskier was shoving everything he owned, which had been strew about the room for months, into a bag like it would run away. “Now come and get your mess before Mother Nature changes her mind!”_ _

__“That’s not how weather works.”_ _

__“I don’t care!”_ _

__Meeting the women outside, the ground sunk beneath their feet. What was once a white plain was now a field of torn-through grass and seemingly endless mud. Amongst this however, there were flecks of green coming from the Earth. Geralt could smell the beginnings of spring and with the sun hidden behind the clouds, embraced what he had never thought he’d have a chance to miss; the open road._ _

__Roach whinnied at the sight of the pair, missing them so after such a long winter. Geralt made sure to visit her at least twice a day, giving her meals and brushing her to revive whatever body heat she had lost in the stuffy barn. That being said, no walk around a stable could be compared to riding at full speed through the fields of the continent._ _

__He spoke to the mare about Jaskier frequently, who else was he supposed to go to for advice?_ _

__“My dear steed!” Jaskier threw his arms over his head and rushed to Roach, tossing them around her neck and hugging tightly. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!”_ _

__Geralt, Elizabeth and Gwen watched from the front of the inn, laughing amongst themselves but not making fun of him; they all understood the feeling completely._ _

__“So where are you two going now?” Geralt asked, speaking to Gwen who wasted no time getting the saddlebags packed and ready._ _

__She mounted their stallion, an exceptionally large horse affectionately named Gus. “No idea, but as far away from here as we can. I hear spring’s already come to the west, so maybe there. What about you?”_ _

__Jaskier waltzed back over to the group, growing restless and impatient. He turned away from the women and to Geralt, “What monster-animal things come out this time of year? Preferably in warm climates?”_ _

__Elizabeth stepped forward, a twinkle of a tear in her eye, “I’m sure wherever you go it’ll be lovely.” She extended a hand to Geralt, which he took and once again was surprised by how firm her grip was. “I’ve known you for two months Geralt of Rivia and I can say with confidence that you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” Elizabeth opened her arms for Jaskier to give her a hug, as been their custom, “And you the most creative, I’m going to miss you both dearly.”_ _

__“I’m going to miss you both as well, I hope our paths cross again.” The Witcher was confused at his mutual feeling, as he’d never been one for getting attached. He and Gwen exchanged a nod rather than a proper send off. They were one in the same in their hatred of emotional formalities._ _

__Jaskier sniffled and wiped his eye with the back of his hand, “What he said.”_ _

__They all laughed again as Elizabeth mounted Gus, the men waving at them as they rode off into the distance until they became just a spot amongst the trees._ _

__Geralt dropped his hand to his side and turned to his companion, “I say we get the fuck out of here.” He spoke to empty air, Jaskier half way back to where Roach waited patiently for them._ _

__“Way ahead of you!” He tossed his lute over his shoulder and stood next to the mare, tapping his foot._ _

__Geralt caught up, taking Roach by the reins and ushering them off, not giving their home for the winter another look other than from the corner of his eye._ _

__And off they went, halfway between somewhere and nowhere without a care for which they were headed. They walked in a comfortable silence, breathing deeply and taking in what they before had taken for granted; fresh air, the smell of rain and birds chirping everywhere. Normally these sounds of life waking up would bother Geralt, who hated the spring as it made his nose itch incessantly. But there had been a turnaround, and he had caught himself smiling while watching the flocks come home on several occasions. He felt warm inside, content._ _

__There was a sense of guilt that had struck him then. He knew that what he wasn’t revealing didn’t make him a liar, but he couldn’t help but feel that way regardless._ _

__Jaskier started kicking pebbles along on the dirt road and humming to himself a song he had been working on all winter. Being stuck inside made him crave a new adventure, something to wake him from hibernation. “So what are we going to do now?” He stopped, eyebrows furrowed and looked at Geralt with his head lolled to the side. “This frolicking and smelling roses thing has been great,” He gestured around generally with his arms, “But is there an actual, you know, plan?”_ _

__Geralt loved it when he looked confused. The slight squint of his eyes, how his lips parted in time with the curve of his brows, the weight which transferred to one hip along with a hand to emphasize the emotion. Jaskier was quite the flare for the dramatic, even when he didn’t do so on purpose._ _

__“I haven’t given it much thought.” Geralt looked around, “I guess the plan is to keep walking until we find something. Honestly, I don’t know where we are.”_ _

__This didn’t sit well with the bard, who’s life quite literally depended on Geralt’s sense of direction. “What do you mean you don’t know where we are?!” His voice took on a shrill tone, hands flailing from their place at his hips into the air. “You mean to tell me we’ve been playing it by ear this entire time?!”_ _

__Geralt sighed and dropped the reins, grabbing Jaskier’s hands before they smacked him in the face. This calmed him down immediately, the confused expression leaving his face with the next breath he took. “Do you trust me?”_ _

__“Well that’s a stupid fucking question.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and tried to pull his hands away, the Witcher’s grip squandering such an attempt._ _

__“Do. you. trust. me?” He repeated himself, slower this time, squeezing the hands in his own to emphasize the end of the sentence. Geralt looked into his eyes and waited patiently for a response, his heart thumping in his palms._ _

__Jaskier chuckled, he couldn’t help but find the simplicity of the question and it’s painfully obvious answer funny. “Of course I do,” He said with a smile, “I thought that was pretty obvious.”_ _

__The reason he asked was the set up for a joke, but suddenly Geralt couldn’t remember the punchline. There was a lump in his throat and a twitch in his fingertips and he couldn’t decide between leaning in to kiss the man in front of him or playing off the tension like he always did._ _

__And yet he couldn’t move a muscle, staring wide-eyed at Jaskier for much longer than necessary like a deer caught in lantern-light. The fever passed however, as soon as it came, his common sense taking over along with his inhibition. He dropped his hands and cleared his throat, picking up the reins and sorting together a punchline to a joke he knew wouldn’t be funny. “So trust me then, it hasn’t led you wrong before.”_ _

__“I’ve almost died, on several occasions actually, and most because of some adventure with you.”_ _

__Geralt scoffed, “Most were because you didn’t listen on some adventure with me.” He continued to lead them in whatever direction they had already been walking, going through a sunlit glade and entering the open mouth of a dirt-pathed wood. “And you’ve never almost died.”_ _

__“I BEG your pardon? Let’s see there was-“ Jaskier followed close behind, counting on his fingers emphatically every time he’s come in harms way since their paths crossed those years ago. This argument lasted for the better part of two hours, the conclusion being that Jaskier had selective hearing for what he thought was stupid; which just so happened to be every one of Geralt’s instructions. By the time this conclusion was reached, the other mouth of the forest was in sight, the late afternoon sun now behind them and the scent of rain long gone._ _

__They stopped at the forest’s edge, the conversation being brought to a steady halt, their mouths agape and staring ahead at one of the most beautiful things either had every seen. It was a field of wildflowers of every color, as if someone has poured gallons of the finest paint across the grass, spanning as far as the eye could see; stopping only at the horizon which rose to mountainous peaks. It was utterly silent except for the wind whirling itself through the tall grass, blowing the blooms to and fro in a swaying dance. The land looked untouched, unspoiled, the dirt road coming to an end where they stood; as if it had been carved into the hills just for them._ _

__Jaskier wiped a tear that had trickled down his cheek without him knowing, “I take back what I said about not having a plan,” He looked at Geralt, his face breaking into a grin equivalent to that of a child on Yule, “I think we should wander more often.”_ _

__He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but decided against it as the look of pure joy on Jaskier’s face could’ve brought tears to his eyes. They had seen many things together, both beautiful and horrific, but he had never seen him so happy before; especially over something as simple as a field of flowers. Geralt nodded his response, looking away to catch his breath; his tongue going dry and stomach turning in knots._ _

__Jaskier wandered off into the field, the grass reaching as high as his waist in some places. Though he had learned better than to walk into brush without checking for monsters, there was no way anything malicious could make it’s way here. He had never felt so calm in his life and could think of no one better to share such a moment with. There were many moments in which they were alone, but never secluded as they were now. The air blew differently here, the mood one he couldn’t recognize. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place his finger on what was so peculiar._ _

__Geralt watched by Roach’s side, unsure of what to do or how he felt. The latter taking up more of his conscious than the former. He took a step forward, “I can’t stand this any longer.” He thought to himself, brushing the tops of the grass with his fingertips. “I’ve spent far too long being afraid.” Now approaching Jaskier, who laid in a small clearing watching the clouds pass, his anxiety took him over. The sound of his heartbeat in his ears was distracting his train of thought, interrupting the planning of his inevitably awkward spiel. His hands shook as he knelt down to Jaskier’s side, sitting cross legged and watching him silently._ _

__The bard looked at him, concern coating his expression. He leaned up on his elbow. “You look like you’ve seen a banshee, what’s wrong?”_ _

__“I’m fine, I just-“ He paused, nervously brushing some hair behind his ear and biting his lip. “I wanted to tell you something.”_ _

__“Well I can see that.” Jaskier matched his posture, leaning his fists on his chin and listening intently, “Go on, what’s the matter?”_ _

__Geralt sighed, dramatically widening his eyes at the ground before they made contact with Jaskier’s. “Do you remember that town we were in this past summer? Where all of the villagers thought I was a goner?”_ _

__He nodded, “And you freaked out like you’d never done your job before?”_ _

__“Yeah, that one.” He chuckled and continued, “I wasn’t just acting like a pussy because of the villagers, though they definitely didn’t help. I- I was afraid that if they were right, I’d never see you again.” Geralt didn’t wait for a response, already going off the script in his head, he pressed on. “And in the fall, all of those nights that you had to keep close to me so you wouldn’t freeze.” He smiled at the memory, “I realized that I never wanted you to be more than an arms-reach away from me ever again. Then after being stuck up in that place all winter I just, everyone I talked to when you weren’t around thought that we were married or something. It made me think about you, about us.”_ _

__“Really?” Jaskier thought back to Elizabeth and Gwen, how much they reminded him of the two of them and how Geralt could never look him in the eyes when they were around._ _

__Geralt nodded, “Now watching you here, you’re so happy. I’m happy, I think. But I feel like I’m hiding something from you.”_ _

__“What’s that?” The bard’s voice dropped to a light whisper, cocking his head to the side and waiting for something he’d wanted to come since that day in the summer._ _

__“I love you.” He look another deep breath, watching Jaskier’s face in slight neurosis as the weight of what felt like the world lifted from his broad shoulders. “I love you and I never want to be without you. I don’t want you to be without me and above all I want to protect you with my life. I don’t care where we go or when or how we get there, if I’m with you, I feel like I’m home.” Geralt’s voice dropped to a hush, “If you’ll have me.”_ _

__Jaskier didn’t say anything, remaining silent as he uncrossed his legs and put his arms around Geralt’s neck, their noses touching but not their lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”_ _

__“Which part?”_ _

__“Mhm.” And they came together at the mouth, locked in a moment in time which neither wanted to step out of. What Geralt couldn’t make himself say, he expressed in this moment, Jaskier answering in the same fashion and with a hand tangled around white locks. The sun had begun to set, lighting up there skin in tones of orange and deep pinks; the wind drowning them amongst the flowers in the field which Geralt was surely convinced had been grown just for them._ _

__All of the sentences left unfinished and feelings pushed away had been worth it, this was as perfect as it could be and the wait now finally had ceased. He loved him and Geralt only could hope that such a thing meant as much to his companion as it meant to him._ _

__Jaskier broke away first, brushing their noses together and held Geralt back by the cheeks so he wouldn’t lean in again. His thumb circled the corner of his lips, “So what now?”_ _

__“Again with you and the planning, what happened to being spontaneous?” He kissed the finger and shifted, holding Jaskier tightly to his chest and sweeping the bards legs over his lap. “I say we head to the coast.”_ _

__“I’d like that, I’d like that a lot.”_ _

__“See, now we have a plan- ow! Keep those to yourself!” He caught the hand smacking lightly at his chest and wrapped it in his own. The sun dipped finally behind the mountains and all was growing dark. Jaskier looked up at him, tilting his chin down with his free hand. “What?” He whispered, leaning into his touch._ _

__“I just wanted to look at you again before I fall asleep.” Geralt leaned down and kissed Jaskier on the forehead, hovering above his face and soaking in all of the filled space which he had denied himself for far too long. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”_ _

__“And I’ll keep you alive while you do.”_ _

__“Why do you have to make everything so morbid?”_ _

__“You’re the one who spent two hours talking about how you’ve almost died over and over!”_ _

__“I was simply noting a pattern!”_ _

__Geralt had to kiss him again, and again- and again, to shut him up. Though sitting amongst the wildflowers, he came to conclusion that if keeping Jaskier quiet meant keeping him safe and warm and at his fingertips; then perhaps his incessant chatter could become another one of his beautiful melodies._ _

__And Geralt would forever love the sound._ _


End file.
